Get More Attention Span-Quick Scheme: a Mid-Year Resolution

Why do one thing when I can do many things all the time, all at once!?

I don’t remember half of my New Year’s Resolutions at this point in the year, but I’m starting a new program for myself which I’m calling “Mid-Year Memory Marathon.” Partially inspired by my husband’s unending quest for the esoteric, partially inspired by my screen time, I’m dedicating myself to the long-lost art of having memorized pieces of literature ready to recite at the drop of a hat. I find myself relentlessly multitasking and dividing my attention throughout the day as if it were somehow in my best interest to prevent an actual thought forming in my mind. I’m so used to constant mental stimulation that I feel entitled to it without having necessarily worked for that truly rewarding moment of achievement.

My goal is simple: Train my brain to memorize anything other than song lyrics and (mainly) useless pop culture facts.

The purpose: Expand both my general attention span and capacity for memorization and internalization, as it frightens me how reliant I am on the device in my pocket to keep track of every piece of information I may need or desire.

The metrics: 6 passages or poems memorized in the remaining 6 months of the year. One fully memorized piece by the end of each month. I start today, July 1st.

The theme: none! joy! betterment!

I’m choosing to start with a monologue from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I will become Puck in Act 2, Scene 1 in all his impish glory. “I am that merry wanderer of the night” and so on. I’ve chosen Shakespeare because it’s theatrical and metered, providing me with small crutches to start with, rather than some obscure and un-musical literary passage.

For day one, I am simply reading Act 2, Scene 1 in its entirety to refresh my memory on the context of the passage. I’ll reread the monologue a few times aloud and leave it at that for today!

Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Oberon and make him smile
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab,
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob
And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale.
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough;
And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,
And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there.
But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon.

The mental and emotional benefits of memorization are not unsung in both academic and neurological contexts. And while literary analysis and simply reading aloud have many positive effects as well, the practice of memorizing can act as a meditation that not only provides peace and mental clarity, but a rich mental resource of language. As anyone can tell, I’m not diving into the neurology in today’s issue, but if I’m feeling ambitious I may revisit this! Perhaps an end-of-year follow-up.

After having this idea and reading several essays and testimonials regarding memorization, I found myself going back to a 2013 article by Brad Leithauser for The New Yorker titled “Why We Should Memorize.” He spent time as a college professor and found himself struck by how burdensome his students seemed to find memorization assignments. It was actually his article that spurred me to start this project with Shakespeare, for the reasons I listed above. Leithauser not only carved space for this in his university curriculum, but had an unconventional history with literary memorization; his mother would pay him per line as a child!

He holds an obvious love and appreciation for memorized works, particularly poetry, as he has not only employed memorization in his own teaching structure, but examined its role in history and in the lives of notable artists. Leithauser describes memorized poems as “a sort of larder, laid up against the hungers of an extended period of solitude.”

What strikes me is that we so rarely experience the quiet solitude of days past. Today, if we are to find ourselves alone, the most likely course of action is to take a smartphone out of our pocket and find endless entertainment with no labor required. Why would we need a store of memorized poetry if we can instantly find boundless search results for poems, should we even choose to spend our solitude reading?

I am no exception to this epidemic, and I’m deciding to be incredibly dramatic about the impact of phone addiction on my mental health and on my community at large. While I hesitate to make the leap and pathologize every topic I get my hands on, this is one subject on which I refuse to back down. It is my hope that in trying to accomplish something relatively small, like memorizing a short monologue from a very famous play, I can start to shift the way I use my brain’s processing power and ability to stay grounded in the slower, analog life I’m striving for.

I can only imagine the extent to which I can shift from frustrated, drained, and constantly stimulated, to calm and at ease in the silence of my solitude. I’ll start reciting these passages on walks, when I wake up in the morning, when I’m just sitting and would otherwise pull out my phone as some sort of insidious baby blanket.

My solitude used to be a refuge, and now it seems as though I’m conditioned to consider solitude the very thing from which I need refuge. The several hours of physical solitude I enjoy a day mean nothing when shrouded in the haze and venom of instant gratification.

On this aggressive note I embark on July 1st, a partly cloudy Tuesday.

If anyone feels so inspired or encouraged to try something new like this with me, please let me know! I’d love to support a fellow nerd in their quest for lost-skills.